


'Tis the Sneeze-on

by jennguji



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Common Cold, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Reader-Insert, Smooching, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 00:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennguji/pseuds/jennguji
Summary: You're feeling under the weather so Sam wants to make you feel better for Christmas. A Christmas special with Sam.





	'Tis the Sneeze-on

Sam loosens his dark green scarf as he enters the General Store. The bell chimes above his head as the door slams shut behind him. He dusts some snow from his shoulders and pulls off his toboggan, stuffing it into one of his sherpa-lined denim coat pockets. He runs his gloved-fingers through his starchy blonde locks before wiping his boots on the mat inside the doorway. The store owner, Pierre, welcomes him from behind the counter. Sam gives the man a quick wave and makes his way to a nearby aisle.

Sam fills his arms with goods and hurries to the front. Pierre carefully bags up each item as he types its cost into the register. He makes small talk about yesterday's Winterveil Feast as Sam digs out the crumpled bills from his jean's pocket. He leaves the bag sitting on the counter in front of Pierre as he puts his outwear back on. After slinging his scarf over the lower half of his face once more, he grabs the bag and wishes Pierre a muffled "Merry Christmas." The bell above the door chimes again as Sam scrambles back out into the cold snowy afternoon.

Small flakes land on his lashes and immediately melt. He tries to blink away the droplets and hugs his arms tighter into his chest. Snow softly crunches under his boots as he makes his way toward the old farmhouse. His scarf falls away from his mouth, and the freezing air steals his breath momentarily when he climbs the stairs on your porch. His breath puffs out in miniature cloudlets. He bounces back and forth on his heels after he knocks on frosted screen door. "Hey, it's me! Let me in, I'm freezing!"

You slowly shuffle over and open up to let Sam inside. He rushes in, and you hurriedly close the door behind him. He leaves his boots at the door and hangs his coat and scarf on the back of one of your kitchen chairs. The bag he's carrying clinks heavily on the counter-top next to the sink.

"You go rest on the couch. Dr. Sam is here to take care of your every whim!" he declares before finding a small pot in your cabinet.

You snuggle your blanket closer to your body and waddle into the living room. The cushion gives way underneath as you plop down and make yourself comfortable in front of the television. Sam fusses around the kitchen. You sniffle continuously between coughs and flip around the channels, watching blearily through half-lidded eyes.

Sam pulls down a mug and two bowls, shutting off the burners on the stove, and tossing a couple empty cans into the trash. He dips a packet into the mug and pours some boiling water in afterwards waiting for it to absorb the flavor. He grabs a soda for himself from the refrigerator, taking a quick gulp then reaches into his bag again. A plastic bear catches the light momentarily as he begins to pour some of the golden goo into the steaming tea. He spoons soup into the bowls, grabs some silverware, and shuts the drawer with his hip.

Sam carefully places the mug of tea on the table next to the arm of the couch where you're sitting. He fumbles in his bag once again and returns to place a box of tissues down as well. You pick up the warm mug, gently stirring and blowing the liquid inside. The first soothing sip slides down your aching throat as he brings over the soup bowls and joins you on the sofa. You poke the noodles around in the hot broth, letting it cool before taking a small spoonful into your mouth.

After you finish as much of the soup as you can, Sam takes your dishes. He washes them in the sink, setting them to dry, and grabbing himself another soda. You yank a quilted tissue from the box and hold it to your nose before blowing. Sam shoves another log into the fireplace. The flame pops and crackles to new life giving off a warm glow. He makes another trip to his supplies, grabbing a crinkly bag, and tearing it open for you. He hands you a small wrapped lozenge, and you gratefully pop it into your mouth. He brings his bag into the living room with you and sets it on the floor under the table.

He glances outside. It was late evening now, and the snow was coming down more heavily. He takes a few steps over, plugging a green cord into the closest socket. Your tree lights sparkle and reflect against the window pane. Sam sits back on the couch and pulls you close. You pass him the remote and lie your head in his lap. He brushes your hair back, gently running his nails over your scalp. He finds an old Christmas musical on TV and begins softly singing along. Your eyelids involuntarily flutter shut, your breathing slightly ragged and uneven.

Sam cautiously shifts underneath you getting into a more comfortable position, straining not to wake you. He pulls your blanket to your chin and kisses your forehead. He places a hand over your chest and catches himself dozing off after a few more shows.

The next morning, you wake up refreshed and take quick revitalizing shower. Your head feels clear as you step out of the bathroom. Sam is still asleep on the couch so you make your way over and gently rub his shoulders, "Your neck is gonna be so sore, hon."

He moans, barely opening his eyes, and hoarsely mumbling something about his throat. He suddenly jerks up, coughing and groaning. Your eyes go wide before placing your hand over his warmed forehead.

"Oh, no. Sam, you caught my cold!" you guiltily admit.

You spend the day taking care of him, keeping him hydrated, and making sure he rests. You measure out some the the medicinal syrup he'd brought for you and set a cool rag on his forehead. He sleeps most of the day and into the night. You tuck him in tightly on the sofa, making a neat pallet for yourself on the floor. You kiss his hand and whisper, "Merry Christmas Eve," before settling in for your own sleep.

Christmas morning, you wake up before Sam again. Heading to the kitchen, you make an easy breakfast and watch as the sun's rays illuminate Sam's softly snoring face. As you continue cooking, he slowly awakens, sitting up and stretching. He trudges into the kitchen and grabs the juice carton from the table. He takes a large gulp, yawns, and scratches his stomach.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he groggily scoots up behind you at the stove, wrapping his arms around your waist and rubbing his cheek on yours.

You share a quick breakfast and end up cuddling on the couch watching Christmas classics for a while.

You glance over at Sam, his emerald eyes sparkling at the screen. "You feeling better?"

He leans over, planting quick kisses over your cheek and nose. "Much, much!" he calls before going on. "You ready for your present?"

You tilt your head curiously, "We already exchanged gifts at the feast?"

"Pfft, that wasn't nearly enough to show how much I love you!" he declares, hopping off the couch and heading for his coat still hanging on the chair.

He digs around the inner pocket, pulling out two items. He passes the first one to you. It's a small rectangle wrapped in red and white striped paper. You make quick work of the wrapping and audibly gasp. You clap a hand over your mouth and stare at him. You jump up and excitedly place the hand-decorated frame with your first photo together on the fireplace mantle between some festive ornaments and garland. You rush over to Sam, grabbing his face.

"How amazing! I love it!" you exclaim, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a meaningful kiss. "But what was the other box?"

He bites his lip before smirking. "I'll show you that in here," he playfully teases, grabbing your hand and leading you to the bedroom.

Hours later you rub Sam's sweaty chest while lying next to him in your bed. You kiss his bare shoulder and nuzzle into his neck.

"Merry Christmas, Sam."

**Author's Note:**

> Presenting some very loving Sam this season!
> 
> Happy Holidays!


End file.
